


Dishwasher and Microwave Safe

by flappergirlsfolly



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Fluff, vaguely crackish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 17:28:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1355773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flappergirlsfolly/pseuds/flappergirlsfolly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"But then Sansa and Catelyn came home from the shops with a few more, and then some appeared from here and there, a new cupboard was installed, and suddenly they were infested with mugs."</p>
<p>Just a cute little through-the-years look at the Stark families eccentricities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dishwasher and Microwave Safe

**Author's Note:**

> Why did I choose Psych? All I do is dream up these little ideas when I'm meant to be paying attention. I own nothing.

_“THERE’S A MASSIVE BOX AT THE DOOR!”_

“Rickon, stop slobbering on it!”

“Can I open it?”

“No, it’s addressed to Jon.”

“Oh. Can I open it?”

_“JON! YOUR… BOX IS HERE!”_

He was already thundering down the stairs, determinedly diving on the package before any of his siblings or their assorted friends could open it and spoil the surprise.

“Thanks!” he shouted over his shoulder, as he blindly followed the box pressed to his face back to his room, kicking the door closed behind him.

(Had he stayed any longer, he would have seen Catelyn look to Ned “You don’t suppose that’s an enormous box of printed pornography your son just protectively ran upstairs with?” and Ned reply “Of course not- where would he pick up that sort of behaviour?” before watching Theon as he strolled from Robb’s bedroom to the kitchen, and then exchanging a concerned glance.)

Sighing in relief at the package’s arrival, he slashed at the tape savagely with his scissors (pausing to shove Arya’s singing reindeer horns under his bed because the tinny rendition of Jingle Bells was doing his head in) and retrieved the treasure from the fluffy Styrofoam peanuts.

_‘Who’s the genius?'_ He asked himself as he lifted the patterned mugs up to the light, searching for imperfections, _‘Oh, that’s right. It’s me.’_

* * *

They were just mugs, at first. He was elated with joy when his family smiled at their Christmas presents. The cups were shoved in the dishwasher, coffee, tea, vodka, and used teabags were slopped into them. They were stored in the cupboard, and used to trap spiders on Sansa’s bedroom wall.

But then Sansa and Catelyn came home from the shops with a few more, and then some appeared from here and there, a new cupboard was installed, and suddenly they were infested with mugs. Sansa grew flowers in old, chipped cups, and Bran stored pens in mugs so old the glaze had worn away.

“This is how we end up on hoarders.” Arya shouted, as she tried to find room to store the meat platter, tea towel slung over her shoulder, but found only mugs.

And it was a little bit cute when Ned sat down beside the video gamers on the sofa with a handful of work documents he was not going to read and a cup of coffee with one of Van Gough’s artworks printed on it. Catelyn sometimes sat down at breakfast and knocked her Legolas mug with Ned’s Mordor University, as they shared a quick kiss.

Sansa crooned and Jeyne Poole giggled when Robb pointed it out (Arya and Theon gagging comically), and for that one, golden day, was lovely. Then it just got weird.

* * *

 The whole family watched with baited breath as Jeyne rummaged around in the cupboard. They were trying to be discreet, but the conversations had fallen short and Arya was basically hanging over the back of the sofa. At the kitchen table, Ygritte’s elbow dug lightly into his side, and she shot him a brief grin. He couldn’t help it- when she smiled, he smiled (which made the sincerity of his arguments as to why he didn’t actually “know nothing” awfully unconvincing) and he leaned over to kiss the skin on the side of her face between her vibrant hair and her eye.

In the kitchen the disconcerted Jeyne clambered down from where she had been kneeling on the marble benchtop, frowning at Robb’s eagerly anxious expression.

“Um… so… weren’t we going to have some tea?” she stuttered, holding out her mug.

Robb’s face stayed frozen for a long, painful moment, before breaking out into a blindingly ecstatic beam.

Jon couldn’t quite see at first if she’d picked out the C-3PO mug Robb decided to buy many a teenaged year ago, but the way he carefully took it from her hands and placed it beside his R2-D2 cup before picking her up and twirling her around (while she continued to look thoroughly befuddled) let him think it was. The family hollered and applauded (no, they’re not crazy), before he carefully set her down and went on to one knee.

They didn’t marry then (she said she’d call him and hurried out, and it took him a moment before he realised that he needed to follow her and explain) but two months later Theon received a shaky voicemail informing them that the couple had eloped.

(Seven months later, Margaret Westerling-Stark was born, and it might have been Jon’s imagination, but he could have sworn that while the rest of the family affectionately referred to her as ‘Mag’, when her parents used the name it sounded a lot like ‘Mug’.)

* * *

 Sansa took an age.

Joffrey Baratheon chose a Monster Trucks cup. It might have been a gag gift, or something that had travelled from a neighbour’s collection to theirs (either way, the Starks had an encyclopaedia in their kitchen cabinet), but regardless, Sansa’s excited grin faltered and she tucked her own _‘Love_ actually _is all around’_ mug into her hip in an attempt to hide it. Joffrey, however, still picked up on the harsh silence and tuts of disapproval, and after an unclarified few moments, smashed the hideous cup on the floor and stormed out screaming in rage.

Events then played out similarly with Harry Hardyng. Willas Tyrell chose an Elmo mug (it wasn’t harmful, and Ned and Catelyn decided that they could live with it,) and Sansa gave a surprised squeak and smiled adoringly at him, but she still wept rivers when they broke up (which no amount of improvised slapstick from Robb and Jon seemed able to fix). There was a moment where she and Theon seemed strangely disappointed when Theon took his regular _The Hangover_ tankard from the dishwasher, and they both seemed so glum that they failed to notice Jeyne Poole assuming that it was unclaimed and pouring her orange juice into it.

Sansa was holding a _Captain America_ mug between two slender hands when Tyrion Lannister (who seemed to take the ritual as a challenge) produced an _Iron Man_ cup to match.

The relationship was accepted well enough in the family, after that.

“That were nice.” Ygritte remarked, glancing up at him from the tattoo she was sketching onto her wrist with one of Jon’ fine liners.

He looked to the couple, sitting on the sofa as Sansa quietly explained the history and purpose of the cup ritual to Tyrion who nodded and kissed her hand.

In response, Jon wrinkled his nose.

“Nah.” Was all he said. Ygritte raised a translucent orange brow, and when he did not yield, rolled her eyes.

“Pretentious bastard.” She muttered, before grinning as he nudged her knee with his toe in retribution.

It seemed to take an eternity, but finally Sandor Clegane came to Sunday lunch. Ned looked like he was about to have some sort of crisis as Sandor stared at him impassively, while all Catelyn could say was “My, you’re tall” before being assisted into her seat by a horrified Sansa.

“This is going to be good…” Ygritte muttered to him, as the Hound plunged his hand into the cupboard without preamble, rummaged for a moment, before returning with Sansa’s old cup (her Christmas present the year the mug thing started). Pink, and printed with swirling, twirling Disney princesses and their princes- the glaze on Eric’s face was cracked, and some of the paint has been scraped away on his cheek, but Sansa’s grin lit up her face. Ned looked like he really wanted to forbid the relationship, but Catelyn simply smiled at him, patting his shoulder in consolation.

“The mugs have spoken, darling.” She announced, as Sansa excitedly displayed her own cup, printed with the entire balcony scene of Romeo and Juliet. It was the first time the family saw Sandor smile.

* * *

“Hey,” Jojen noted, smirking down at his mug. “I am Sherlocked.”

“Excuse me, man, but Clueing for Looks.” Bran rebutted, his favourite Sherlock mug resting on the tray of his wheel chair as he whizzed through the kitchen. The family looked up at the boys, as they stared, befuddled between their cups, before shrugging and pouring themselves some hot chocolate anyway. Morosely, Jon sits by himself on the empty sofa, but smiles slightly as Jojen wipes some cream from Bran’s upper lip.

“Bromance? Hah!” Ygritte would have said- if she were there.

* * *

It used to by Mycah who went to Sunday dinner with Arya, but after that incident with Sansa’s ex boyfriend, Lommy or Hot Pie or Gendry came instead. It was one of these days when Jon refused to be distracted by the chipped black nail polish on Ygritte’s fingers moving further away from his knee (and not the good, Sunday lunch direction) to look at the kitchen.

“Hey- you got the Impala!” Arya laughed, her height on the kitchen bench enabling her to kick him in the leg with ease.

“This is an amazing car!” Gendry defended instantly. “You don’t even know anything about cars!”

“Do too!” she cried, hotly, shoving her _‘The driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole’_ mug in his face (nose breakingly close, had he not jerked away in time).

“I bet you don’t even know the model of the car.” He baited, and she shoved him.

“1967 black, four door, hard top, Impala Chevy!” she screeched, chasing him out of the room, followed by a faint “I bet you don’t even ship Destiel!”

* * *

Everybody was exhausted when it happened to Rickon. Athletics day (puke) had reached a wet conclusion as the heavens opened up and the Starks and assorted friends and significant others had been forced to dash through the car park in the deluge, with bags and lacrosse sticks and brass instrument cases. Catelyn then proceeded to drive away without Jon and Ygritte, and the two had stood dejectedly in the rain as the minivan disappeared down the street (while Pyp and Grenn laughed at them from beneath their umbrellas) before making a sharp, jagged turn and speeding back toward them.

Silently, the bedraggled party dragged themselves into the kitchen, as Jon and Ygritte went to stand over the heater vent (he took the opportunity to grin awkwardly and an excuse to hug her under the guise of sharing warmth) as Ned clattered about with the kettle and mugs.

“I got Princess Peach!” Shireen exclaims happily.

“I use a Mario cup every day.” Rickon announced, earnestly. “You know, Mum and Dad use matching cups.”

“Really?” she asked, smiling the sweetly disarming smile that she had somehow managed to use for her own gain.

“I think that means we’re soul mates.”

Catelyn dropped the coffee canister at that, and beans splayed across the floor.

Shireen considered Rickon’s declaration for a long moment, before shrugging and smiling again.

“Okay.” She told him sweetly, and the family watched in astonishment as the pair drank their cocoa innocently.

* * *

“Do you think we might need to cull some of these?” Catelyn asked the room aloud, hands on her hips as she contemplated the massing, looming cupboard of mugs before her.

Scattered through the living room, kitchen, and table, Ned, Jeyne, Mu-Mag, Robb, Sandor, Sansa, Bran, Jojen, Arya, Gendry, Rickon, Shireen, Ygritte and Jon all gasped, scandalised.

“You wouldn’t dare.” Ygritte challenged.

“I’ll fight you for them.” Arya shouts, leaping up on her seat as Gendry steadies her.

“That’s a resounding no, love.” Ned calls, and Catelyn rolls her eyes with a smirk as she closes the door and joins the family.

* * *

_“Cup brownie?” Jon asked, as Ygritte dropped her Science books on the kitchen bench, and sat down heavily._

_“Hit me.” He casts her a glance- smirking in amusement as she smiles coyly at him._

_“Don’t forget-“_

_“Your favourite mug.” He finished, rolling his eyes and plonking the Deathly Hallows cup down beside his ‘Always’,_

_“How could I forget?”_

_They share a shy grin, ignoring Theon’s wolf-whistle in the background._


End file.
